


Pink Shorty Shorts

by Daamile



Category: Skip Beat!
Genre: F/M, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-07-16 02:05:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16076060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daamile/pseuds/Daamile
Summary: A collection of Skip Beat short stories, mostly based on prompts, mostly bellow 1k words.





	1. Then she said and he said and she said

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lory tries to squeeze a decent love story from a bored Chiori.

Lory clashed with the Love Me room door, gasping for air. He tried to push it open, but the lock wouldn't budge. After three attempts, the man stopped his futile efforts and tried to catch his breath. He had heard the news from Kanae on the main floor and ran as fast as he could; she dropped the bomb and left before he had a chance to interrogate her. He looked around and found a detail he had missed in his hurry. Chiori was sitting on the ground, calmly doing her nails.

"Amamiya-kun! Oh it’s so good to find you still here. Please, tell me what happened!"

Chiori looked up from her filing, startled.

"Oh good afternoon, President! What can I help you with?"

Lory stepped closer, fidgeting.

"Ren and Kyoko! Kotonami-kun just told me about their scene in front of this very door." He pointed at it, repeatedly.

Chiori looked up and smiled, understanding.

"Oh yes! Tsuruga-san confessed to Kyoko-chan. They’re in the room now sorting it out, you know, privately."

Lory's eyes grew dramatically in size.

"WHAT NOW? Child, how can you say something like that so easily, so crudely? Where are the emotions; what were the details? As your boss, I demand more... particulars!"

She rolled her eyes and looked down, putting the brush to her first nail.

"Ah yes, there were flowers. So lovey-dovey, ugh."

"Flowers?" He paced back and forth, petting his mustache. "This was serious then, not just brought up at the moment... But if there were flowers... it means he planned this through."

She blew on her right hand.

"Yeah, if he didn't he wouldn't have that ring. He took a knee and everything."

Lory put his hands on his chest and let out a pained whisper.

"A ring? What kind of ring? Don't tell me the fool p-p-proposed?"

Chiori nodded and started on her next hand.

"I think so.... and maybe there was a kiss too? I don't know, I was pretty grossed out at the moment. Who puts their hand there, touching each other like that in public? It was positively indecent I tell you." She shuddered.

Lory stopped his pacing and looked down at her, narrowing his eyes.

"Hands? HANDS? YOUNG LADY, YOU HAD BETTER TELL ME A LINEAR, COHESIVE, DETAILED STORY RIGHT NOW, OR I'LL SUBTRACT IT FROM YOUR NEXT PAYMENT!!!"

Chiori looked up, annoyed.

"You don't even pay me! Look, all I know is that me, Kanae and Kyoko were there in the room gathering our things and Tsuruga-san rushed in like a fool with a bouquet in hand and said" Chiori pitched her voice lower at that, "My dear Kyoko, I can't hold this feeling anymore! Yadda yadda yadda Love beyond age! Yadda yadda yadda you know my true self, shenanigans." She raised the pitch of her voice for the next step, "And Kyoko off course was like 'Oh no Tsuruga-san, what are you saying, I'm just your kouhai yadda yadda yadda, I can't possibly accept this, yadda yadda yadda so inappropriate! Blergh."

When finished, she looked back at the stunned president.

"You know how she gets with that whining senpai stuff. So Tsuruga-san leaned over and I looked away, because gross. The next thing I know he took a knee and said 'Please, consider my feelings seriously' and she said 'Oh my, Tsuruga-san' and he said 'Call me Kuon' and I said 'Look, can you do this in another place? I need my stuff and this talk is disgusting.' And so they kicked Kanae and me out and I'm here now, where I’ve been waiting for 15 minutes. Kanae just left. She was pissed too." She concluded her tale as the limits of her patience ended.

Lory was lost for words. He looked at his employee as he rested his shoulders against the door.

"Amamiya Chiori, how can you be an actress AND be so bad at storytelling?"

She rolled her eyes once more.

"I can be pretty good if I care. But I don't. Feelings stuff is gross."

As Lory prepared to reply, the door opened. He fell back on the carpet, stunned.

A startled Ren and a bright red Kyoko looked down at him with concern in their eyes.

"Lory, please be my best man," Ren requested as he offered him a hand.

If the president was not on the ground, he would have fallen again. Lory gave up on coherent thoughts, his brain overflowing. It was too much for the old president's heart.

"I DIDN'T AGREE TO THIS TSURUGA SAN! We said to go slow!" He heard a faint voice in the background.

"It’s Kuon, Kyoko. And I know, I'm just covering my bases."

Chiori simply rolled her eyes and stepped into the room. Finally. Who would want to know about Kyoko and Ren’s love anyway? The way those two looked at each other was so cliche, so shoujo like.

As she walked out, she thought that if this were a manga, the sales would be terrible.

It was all so very predictable.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt was: A love story told by someone who doesn't believe in love.


	2. Mind Sarcophagus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria tries to escape from her problems for a while.

Ruto was close, really close this time. If she stood on her tiptoes, she could almost see his hair from the two slits above her head. But she didn't look. She didn't have the energy to be curious right now.

"Maria! Your grandfather is waiting for you to start lunch."

Maria pressed her hand to her mouth. If she made a sound, he would find her and she would have to acknowledge all the things she wanted to forget: people, lunch, emails, the special day. Better to stay in this sarcophagus for a while and avoid all that unnecessary stuff at once. That's it! That was the plan. Empty your mind and avoid old, annoying people for the whole day.

She focused on the smell of old clay, earthy and humid, comforting. She inhaled deeply and let her body slide down on the rugged wall. She could appreciate this place. If she emptied her mind, she could focus on the little specks of dust dancing above her hair, illuminated by the two streams of light shining in from outside. She certainly appreciated finally being alone on this special day. Her mother's birthday was always a quiet day. No, no, no.

Maria jolted up. Ruto was gone, but her thoughts were still there.

That wasn't good. What felt like a nice idea only a moment ago, was now impossibly claustrophobic. This stupid sarcophagus was too empty, too cold. She tried to push the lid open, but it didn't budge. She tried to scream for Ruto come back, but he didn't hear. She slammed her fists into the wall, but it didn't move. This was a disaster.

An impossibly loud sob came from her throat and echoed in her ears.

No one came. No one would.

Some days were harder than others. This one was the hardest of them all. It was her mother's birthday. At least it would be if she were alive. Grandfather suggested that she write a letter, for her father to print out and place at her mother's grave. But how could she? It was hard enough to talk about her, acknowledge that she was gone by writing was impossible. To put it on paper was like finally accepting the things she would never have again.

Another stream of hot tears poured down to Maria's cheeks.

She would never again hear her voice in the mornings again, tired, after she flew all night just to sleep with them. Never make another plan for their next vacation. Never see that movie about Paris together. They were supposed to watch it at their saturday night, the sacred day when her mother would put Maria to bed, brush her hair and tell her how much she loved her.

No, she couldn’t write it down.

Maria sighed, taking a deep breath, and looking up at the tiny specks of dust flying in front of the two slits of light. That was a terrible train of thought. It was exactly like Kyoko said, just because she was crying didn't mean someone would come to save her. She needed to stop that, write a proper letter and have lunch. Father and Grandfather were hopeless adults without her; they needed her strength.

Maria frowned up at the tiny crevices and slammed her fists into it. She decided she hated it. The possibility of darkness, of staying there the whole day without anyone finding her, made the light look so much brighter; so more inviting. Stupid Egyptian engineering. Wasn't the pharaoh supposed to come back from the dead? How would they, if they couldn't open the stupid door?

She threw herself in the rough clay. It didn't budge. So, she did it again. It hurt her elbow, but she wasn't crying anymore. That was for hopeless kids. At the third time, she felt her feet getting unstable. Good. She did it again and again. At the fifth push, she was weightless. Instead of her legs coming down to the ground, gravity tricked her brain and pushed her hands and knees and forward.

After an ominous second, the sarcophagi walls exploded into a million pieces. 

Good. Now she wouldn't have to look at those stupid slits anymore. Her hand hurt like hell when she got up and her knees didn't bend how she wanted. But that was ok. She could still hold a fork, look at a computer and write an email, after she bandaged those wounds. She was a strong kid. A ferocious one. She could do anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt was a Stephen King quote:  
> "It was the possibility of darkness that made the day look so bright.”


	3. How To Train Your Fairy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the far lands of the Takarada Kingdom, Kyoko finds herself pursuing a fairy to become a princess.

Long ago, in the majestic woods of Takarada Kingdom, a simple-faced princess candidate stood with her boots in the mud. Kyoko the Plain, a single child from the admirable and most ancient House Mogami - a lineage of cooks from Kyoto - had been feeling slightly sick ever since she woke up that morning. It was afternoon of the spring equinox and seven girls - including her - were standing on the edge of the palace gardens. 

"Pay attention, brave girls, to the words I say; simple rules should be followed to guide your way," warned Erika the Gifted, who was in charge of the initiation.

"Oh no, please tell me you’re not going to rhyme the instructions too," groaned Kanae the Cold Beauty, causing the other girls to giggle.

"Shh now, Lady Kanae, the princess is an expert! I'm sure rhymes were an important part of her past winning strategy," interjected Kimiko the Honeyed Voice, in her grating, nasal tone.

"Or it could be a cheap deception, so we don't take her place next year," suggested Chiori the Cunning, with a sly smile. 

"You’ll be oblivious without compliance, so I require your silence!" growled Erika.

All the girls stopped immediately. They each hoped to pass the initiation and become the next princess, but they needed to survive the deadly fairy kingdom first. Kyoko, in particular, needed all the help she could get.

"Now, that’s proper. On this kingdom only the dearest and purest and bravest of heart, tame fairy grandmothers - a fine and dangerous art. In the next three months a wish you should demand,to be the princess and ruler in one of our... land.”

“She is missing an S!” whispered Chiori.

“Ahem,” Erika cleared her throat, “If, by the summer solstice you fail to enchant the enchanted, you must set it free, that’s for granted. They will grow bored of pampering and sugar, and will simply kill you.”

A shiver went through all of them over the failed rhyme.

“As in all good quests, this one has three tests,” she pointed her index finger upwards. “First you have to find a fairy ring, wait for the sundown start and then step in; it’s a portal to their kingdom that just opens in the spring.”

That much Kyoko knew; since she was a kid, she saw weird auras coming from circles of mushrooms. Like any good sensible person, she made sure to stay away from wild magic. 

Erika brought another perfectly polished finger up. “Second, follow the giggles and trails of fun, the fairies will be at the end of it, make sure to pick one. Once your trap of fruits and glitter is in a jar, lay it down nearby because they won’t travel far.

The last finger joined the others.

“With or without a locked creature you have to come back, because the third step is to be in our world before sundown, so don’t slack! And I must warn you, the one thing that makes them mad is dealing with rude people, they will curse you bad. You, as in, all your ten pretty faces; they don’t look at particulars, just races.”

“I have a question.” Momose The Skilled politely raised her hand. “Why is there a commoner between us? She’s not even a low noble.”

“Shh child, she was personally appointed by the king. Now off you go! PEASANTS OR PRINCESS!”

“PEASANTS OR PRINCESS!!!” screamed Kimiko, Mimori, and Rumiko enthusiastically. 

“Peasants or Princess...” came a weak chorus from Chiori, Kanae, and Momose.

“... peasants,” mumbled Kyoko.

§

Surely you already guessed that Kyoko was an intruder. For starters, she was so plain that she could never pass by as royal by mistake. Now, someone as polished as Kimiko would be a better princess any day with her perfect hair, exquisite dresses, and impeccable lineage. Granted that her flawless aura was destroyed as soon as she spoke with that nasally voice, but it was all still very royal.

Kyoko, on the other hand, had a plain childish face, straight dark hair and defined muscles from working hard everyday in the kitchen. At least her eyes were princess like, golden, sparkly and expressive, but it was as good as nothing since no one needed to see her face to face, save the kitchen staff.

No matter how much she fantasized it in private, none would dream of choosing her to be a princess candidate. In fact, Shotaro made sure to scream this point for the whole kitchen to hear, right as King Lory passed by. His Majesty was highly impressed by her spirit - or punching skills - and ordered her to attend this afternoon meeting with the other potential princesses. “Our kingdom’s excellent on beauty and cunning, but we’re lacking in spirit!” were his words. 

“Ok girls, now that Rhyme Princess is gone,” started Kimiko on her nasaled tone, “I say that if this commoner is so special, she must be able to find her way alone. We nobles should team up.”

Kyoko's inner demons perked up at the jab. The king was adamant on his instructions to address others as she would her own kitchen staff. There was no reason to keep a low profile.

“Marvelous plan, Lady Kimiko,” she intruded. “I really should rest my unworthy peasant legs while you brave ladies explore the wild, dangerous woods.”

“What do you mean?” inquired Mimori The Big Heart.

“I know where a fairy ring is my lady. That is, I know where one spawned this morning.”

“What a liar commoner!” Mimori laughed off, “How could you?”

Kyoko smoothed invisible wrinkles on her apron and bowed the prettiest courtesy she knew. “Your faithful servant happened to be hunting mushrooms for today’s breakfast this morning. I can bring you to the place if you wish.”

Kimiko laughed at her antics.

“What a daring little thing you are. Deceptive too, if my instincts are not mistaken.” She laughed her fake laugh again. “Come, girls, it will be quicker if we bring hunting dogs along.”

Kyoko straightened when she was sure their hideous chatter were far away and was surprised to still see Chiori, Kanae, and Momose waiting in front of her.

“Pardon me, but I didn’t catch your name,” said Momose.

“Kyoko The Plain, my lady.”

“Well, Kyoko The Plain,” said Momose savoring the words, with a concentrated expression. “We shall follow your lead, please guide us that remain.”

“C' mon, couldn't you have rhymed with brain?” Chiori smiled devilishly. “Those three sure are lacking it.”

That brought out a laugh from Kanae, and after some quick introductions and pleasantries, Kyoko started to feel a tiny bit better. These ladies were not so bad, not at all.

§

It was an easy walk upriver through the woods; the smell of blooming flowers smoothed the way, and Lady Chiori made sure to keep them all entertained with some sordid rumors about past initiations. The group reached the fairy ring in half an hour, and decided to use the rest of the afternoon to enjoy a picnic made of their excess food - it was way too much. When the sun descended, the potential princess candidates were ready and well rested.

Kyoko could feel when the mushroom circle trembled, and the aura around it changed, emanating a sweet taste that sprinkled on her nose. The princess candidates stepped in one by one, jars in hands.

The change was immediate.

As she descended her foot, the sky rotated as the background of a pantomime, and the air glowed with a pink and blue shimmer, like a land viewed from inside a soap bubble.

High pitched giggles caught her attention, and after a quick search, they identified a fairy party near the river bank. There were more of them then in that crevice than she imagined that could exist in the entire world. A massive swarm of tiny creatures flew around, creating streams of shifting color in the air. Their music was so contagious that it reverberated throughout  
her body, making her heart pump in the same fast beat.

In the corner of her eye, Kyoko saw the others scattered around.   
Lady Kanae chose to pursue a blue-winged stream, Lady Chiori was enchanted by some purple fairies, and oddly enough, Lady Momose was surrounded by a crowd of creatures as soon as she opened her jar.

Kyoko panicked a little. She had no idea of what was a good or a bad option; they all looked alike! She decided to pursue one that was far away from the group on top of a rock, an easier target. She set the jar behind it.

It looked at her through his yellow fringes of sparkly hair.

“Really?" It said. "You want to lure me?” 

“Aaaaahn.” Was all that she mustered. No one prepared her with the best arguments to win a fairy.

“Fine, fine I’ll play along.” It rolled its tiny eyes at her. “Glass jar and food and a wannabe princess, oh my.”

It nonchalantly walked into the jar, kicked a piece of cake loose and started munching on it. She closed the lid with trembling fingers. She did it!

As Kyoko began to retreat to the portal, the little fairy opened his mouth and let a sparkly stream of goo run down on top of the cake.

“Blerg, this is sweeeeeeet.” It spat. “Oi, give me salty treats!”

“S-Sorry little enchanted,” she tried to be polite. “I just ate my last bread and cheese.”

It put both hands on its hip. 

“Argh. I can't do it; I’m over this”

The next words were otherworldly loud on her head.

“SUBJECTS, THIS PLAIN GIRL GOT ME TRAPPED IN A SWEET'S JAR. GET ME OUT THIS INSTANT!”

Apparently, the message played on the other fairies heads too, since all giggles died and everyone got airborne in a second.

“RUN” Kyoko screamed the loudest she could.

She ran erratically avoiding jets of magic coming her way.

“Trip and fall, stupid noble,” she heard its tiny voice filled with anger. Very briefly, her legs went slack, but she recovered and quickly kept her pace.

 

Luckily, the portal was nearby. Kyoko managed to jump inside right after Lady Momose, the last one. They ran until the sky was dark and reached the castle grounds out of air.

“What did you do?” asked a breathless Chiori. “I never heard of the fairies being mad like this before!”

“I don’t know!” she sat in the grass. “I followed what Lady Erika said, but apparently it dislikes sweets.”

“And how do you know that?” said Kanae, also breathless.

“It won’t shut up about it!" Kyoko ran a hand through her uneven hair.

“What?” Chiori inquired.”Can you understand what it says?”

“Can't you?” Kyoko brought the glass up and presented the tiny creature to them; he was currently busy alternating between showing his tongue and screaming low words that only stable boys knew.

Momose, Chiori, and Kanae stared at it, wide-eyed.

“Why did you grab a male fairy?”

“What?" Kyoko squinted. "How would I know it’s a male?”

“Just look at its manly face!” Momose raged. “Didn't you check before luring it in?”

“I wanted to be quick!” Kyoko shrieked. “His voice was so high pitched and I thought…”

Suddenly, the jar slid up through her numb fingers.

“Behold," Kimiko smile was venomous, like an evil child for whom Christmas came early. "The peasant has a fairy-grandfather!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt was a to use merge another story you love with Skip Beat. I went with a How to Train your Dragon book adaptation.


	4. Sweet Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyoko messes up her senpai’s coffee for the last time. She will have to pay for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And If can suggest a song: please hear ‘My Trigger’ by Mike Snow with this one.

Ren heard a knock in the glass. Kyoko was outside with two cups in hand, hair a mess by the wind and snow. He unlocked the car, and she slid beside him in the front seat.

“It’s been so long,” he reprimanded. “I thought you'd gone to lunch without me.”

He imagined seeing her cheeks getting redder.

“I’m sorry Tsuruga-san. I was careful to, you know, not to spill anything.”

He sighed, never managing strength to stay angry with her for too long.

“It’s fine. This weather puts me in a bad mood.”

“Hold this then, you will feel better.”

She offered the fuming paper cup thought red fingers. He accepted with extra care, delaying the moment to enjoy the feel of her skin.

A silence fell in the car as they sipped, attentively watching the residential landscape.

Ren choked.

“Mogami-san, there is something wrong with my drink.”

“Oh really? Can I try it?”

He handed her the coffee and tried not to stare at her lips. She let out a low appreciative moan. 

“Yours is better than mine! I suspected that the moko-waitress didn’t like me. This is unfair.”

“How so? This coffee is awfully sweet.”

She chuckled.

“It’s hot chocolate, not coffee. I picked something special since we are staying here for a while.”

“Kyoko.”

She looked at him, eyes wide by the intimacy.

“How long do we know each other?”

“This spring will be three years since I left Kyoto.”

“And have you ever seen me eat sweets?”

She readjusted herself in the seat.

“Well, there was that one time Chief Takarada got you a Manju for your birthday.”

He searched her face, incredulous.

“As a prank. I hate sweets. That includes chocolate.”

“You are right. I’m so sorry, Tsuruga-san.” She bowed as much as she could in the enclosed space. “I should have been more observant.”

“No… this was odd, that’s all.”

“Still, as Kouhai, I should know better.” Her voice was high and fast. "I disrupted your work."

“That’s… no true.”

"But it was not thoughtful. Please, let me make up for it." She bit her lower lip in concentration. "How about… I let you choose where we lunch today?"

He couldn’t help but arch an eyebrow.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Whatever you want, we will eat."

"That’s not a good idea,” he dismissed. “I’ll eat anything you decide that’s a good apology."

"No please, I can eat anything!” Her eyes glimmered. ”Choose a restaurant!"

He smirked and pointed at a small market down the street.

"That place sells onigiri. Let’s have some."

She frowned.

"Onigiri is not lunch."

"You said anything."

"I said lunch, not fast food," she squinted. 

"Am I not the one receiving an apology?" he added playfully. "I choose that place."

“Stop being a child and choose a proper place," she chirped back, "or I’ll slice your fingers off.”

They stared at each other with menacing smiles until his watch biped. He looked down reflexively. It was mid-day.

A subtle cold touch startled him.

Kyoko hands were in his. She had inclined forward and was looking at him with pleading eyes. Her unbuttoned shirt gave him a clear view of her hidden weapons.

“Please Ren-san, let me apologize properly.”

His eyes went dark as he caressed her petite waist.

“Can you really handle this quest, Mogami-san?”

She took his chin in one hand.

“I’m more than qualified for it.”

The click of the loading gun didn’t erase her grin.

“I don’t doubt it,” he said as he pointed the weapon at her heart. “You are the perfect thing to distract me from this stakeout.”

She peeked at him thought semi-closed eyes.

"You damn playboy."

They reacted in a second.

He pressed the trigger, but she was quicker. Kyoko ducked to his lap, making him lose balance when his seat jerked backward, flat open. His following bullets hit the car’s ceiling.

Switching tactics, he let go of the gun and held of her forearm, twisting it outwards. She cried out in pain, and he lost the grip, the brain still not used to seeing her as the enemy. She used the brief distraction to throw a cup of hot cocoa on his face.

He barely avoided the scorching attack. Ren pulled his arms in reflectively and brought her blazer with him. She wrestled out of the clothing and exited the vehicle.

He was fast to his feet and ready to pursue but paused after looking at the snowy street. Dozens of armed men - may be the ones that they were supposed to surveil - were outside. They aimed at his car and he ducked inside as they opened fire.

Everything was hell, and after a foreboding minute, everything went silent.

He dared to look up.

Kyoko was sitting on a motorcycle, using shreds of her shirt as torso tourniquet. The lack of clothing exposed her tattoos, an intricate drawing of flowers and wings enclosed by waving lines. She smiled openly, in a sharp and alien manner. Maybe her first real smile for him.

“What tipped you off, Katagi?” It was an order, not a question.

“The chocolate act," he explained. "It was out of character.”

She laughed and took off, taking the others with her. The afternoon went dark with smoke and screams of their departure. They were off as quickly as they had appeared, loose in the city.

Ren exited the car - a waste at this point - and seated on a snow pile beside his flat tires, waiting for the call to connect.

"All units to 77 Street, repeat, all units to 77. The immortal butterfly is on the run again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt was triggered by miss Aikori making Tsuruga Ren like hot chocolate. Not. On. My. Watch.


	5. Business Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mogami Kyoko and Tsuruga Ren can’t set a deal; they disagree too much.

“We need to submit a counter-proposal to Toshiko’s CO tonight,” Kyoko insisted. “Otherwise we stand to lose the deal.”

“Absolutely not.” Ren dropped the salesman smile and snorted. “I'm not lowering our commissions just because you think the aura isn't right,”

“Those numbers are concrete, sir,” she hissed, “and you know it,” 

Unblinking eyes locked onto each other. They were in Guam; no one reasonable wanted to stay trapped in a conference room discussing a granted transaction in Guam. She wasn’t reasonable.

“Your numbers don't account for a relationship of thirty years.” He grit his teeth, coming back to the beginning of the argument, again.

“It's not guaranteed, Ren,” she got up, slamming her heels on the floor.

“Stubborn kouhai!” he seethed. “I’ve been in this company since before you started business school!”

“That explains why your ideas are so outdated, senpai!” she yelled back. "Times have changed!"

He towered over her, noticing the roots of her hair were still wet.  
“I won’t go forward with your idea.” 

She poked him in the chest with her finger repeatedly, inhaling the scent of his softener.

“Don't lose your grip on this deal, sir. We must fight just to keep it alive!”

He squinted and poked her back.

“Don't feed me song lyrics, it’s annoying.” 

“I don't know what you’re talking about.” She looked away, knitting her brow.

He inhaled to gather his strength.

“It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight. Risin’ up to the challenge of our rival.”

She couldn’t help but join the chorus.

“And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night. And he's watchin' us all with the eeeeeye, of the tiger.”

Kyoko stepped back when the realization hit her.

“SO IT WAS YOU.” 

“It was me what?”

“It's you who sings from the other bathroom,” she accused, shoving a finger in his face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he looked away. “Rocky was playing in the lobby yesterday.”

“You always go out of tune in the “eeeeye” part,” she searched his eyes.

“FINE!” He ran a hand through his hair. “What can I do if you play it every morning? It’s stuck in my head now.”

“It's not my fault if you don't appreciate the classics.” She put her hands on her hips. “I’d listen to it in a loop forever if I could avoid ever hearing that god-awful emo thing you love again.”

He gasped.

“Three Days Grace is a genius, and you know it.” He advanced once more, ready for this fight.

“I’m impressed you don’t come out of the bath crying, sir.” She raised her chin high. They were so close she could smell his cologne.

“Look who's talking. If I have to listen to another Disney song I swear I'm going into your room and changing it myself.” He leaned closer until they were nose to nose; fire coming from her eyes.

“Fair enough.”

She pulled him down by the tie, toppling over the nearby chairs as he tried to find some support against her angry lips. One of them moaned when her back hit the table, and he ravaged her tongue, silent for once. The kiss was rough, warm, and tasted of coffee.

When had to break contact for air, she stepped back and wiped her swollen mouth.

“I'll be waiting, sir. Bring the speaker.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, this is borderline OOC and I know it.
> 
> This prompt was: “So we’ve never met but our showers are on opposite sides of the same apartment wall, so sometimes we’re showing at the same time and we sings duets.”


	6. The Last Customer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He is a barista. She an unexpected enthusiastic coffee consumer. Coffee Shop AU.

The first time, she caught his attention was because the shop was deserted. Not that his business was doing badly, but even a gourmet coffee shop on the outskirts of the financial district cleared out at half past six pm. Her words were forever burned in his mind

“Can I get a trenta espresso? Black, please.”

He looked up from the counter he was wiping and took in her young face, framed by a mass of bright orange hair. Probably a high school student, if he had to guess; face buried in her phone.

“You want almost a liter of coffee, with no sugar?” He asked, incredulous.

“Yes, to go please.”

It wasn’t until he stood there for a while, motionless, that she finally looked up from her phone.

“What?” she frowned. “Refined sugar is bad for your health.”

“Alright,” he shrugged. “That will be ten dollars.”

He scratched his neck, out of habit. At least now he’d have something to talk about later.

§

“She gulped half of it down without even blinking, and just left, staring at her phone the whole time,” he relayed, not bothering to mask the astonishment in his voice.

“Kids these days,” chuckled Kijima, tracing the edge of his mug with his index finger. “I wonder why she needs so much caffeine? Did she show up again after that?”

He shook his head, “just the once.”

“Oh my God,” Kijima stilled, giving him a serious look.” What if she had a heart attack? What if you killed an innocent child with your dirty bean water?”

“Don’t be stupid.” He quickly finished his beer, trying to wash down the sour taste in his mouth. “She must go to school nearby or something.”

“Still,” Kijima insisted, giving him a smile that he didn’t trust, “you should find out. You are morally obligated to see if she’s still is alive amigo, otherwise her death is on your hands.”

§

 

He realized he was double-taking every ginger girl’s order, but no one matched his memory of her. No brave faces, no glitter phone cases; no golden eyes.

But because memories were flimsy things, he developed a habit of asking ‘sugar?’ and searching their eyes for a glimmer of recognition.

None came, but awkwardly enough, the girls always looked away, flushing under the scrutiny.

§

It was mid-afternoon when he heard the nasty screech of tires outside, and then a loud crash. He rushed over when he caught a glimpse of orange hair.

She was sitting on the sidewalk, head in her hands, with a small crowd gathering around.

“Are you ok?” he asked, cautiously stepping closer.

“She hit her head,” someone told him.

“They killed Princess Cindy,” she muttered weakly.

“Who? Where?” he looked around, feeling the acid rise up from his stomach and into his throat.

“My bike, Princess Cindy,” she hiccuped, “th-they killed my bike...” 

He let out a sigh of relief. A short distance away, he saw a pink, sparkly wheel frame, bent in half, beyond repair. No cars in view.

“Do you need an ambulance, kid?” asked an elderly man.

“I...” she raised her head, tears forming in her eyes. “I can’t. I have to work. Deadlines...”

It pained him to see her like that, so he took action. He rolled up his sleeves, walked forward, and pointed to one of the stronger looking witnesses.

“You there, can you bring the bike inside?” He crouched down next to her. “Are you good enough to walk? I’ll help you.”

“I...” she began, frowning. 

“At least sit down until the adrenaline wears off. Drink some water and then decide what you want to do next.”

He offered a hand.

She took it.

They discovered that her leg hurt, so he lent his arm as a makeshift crutch. After some hesitant sips and several minutes, she was calm enough to to make a phone call. To give her privacy, he busied himself in the kitchen. Even though it was past seven, he left the front door open.

“My backpack!” she exclaimed suddenly, starting to rise. “I lost it.”

“It’s in the other chair,” he pointed, calmly, “next to you.”

“Oh.”

She opened the overly stuffed thing with shaky fingers, peeked inside, and let out a heavy sigh.

“Thank God my laptop is intact,” she smiled, hugging it to her chest. “I don’t know what I would’ve done otherwise.”

She was lost in thought, but perked up suddenly. “Do you have wifi?”

He set a mug down on her table and slid a piece of paper forward.

“Name and password.” He hesitated, daring to ask, “you mentioned a deadline before...?”

“Yeah, I had to finalize a visual identity today, but my head is not in it now...” she sighed, taking a sip.

Her eyes widened. “Oh wow, what is this? It tastes amazing!”

“Cold brew with milk. I know you take your coffee black, but I thought this would be better under the circumstances,” he explained. “Do you work tonight? I really think you should call in sick.”

“I can't,” she started to shake her head, opened her eyes wide, and gasped. “If I can work from here, and you’re willing to help, I could still deliver my project on time!”

“I’m afraid I’m not good at tech…” he scratched his neck and took a step back.

“I’m so sorry to impose, but I just need an opinion, and I think you’re more than qualified to give it.” She gave him a dazzling smile. “It’s for a coffee shop.” 

He searched her golden eyes briefly, and pulled up a chair.

“If you insist.”

He wasn’t one to argue with an injured person.

It was past eleven when a blonde man walked in. Before that, they’d somehow been having a great time, just discussing font, colors, and spacing. She had looked so concerned and apologized so profusely for making him keep the shop open, that he said it was normal for weekdays.

He figured a white lie wouldn’t hurt.

§

 

She came by two days later, beaming with happiness. Apparently, someone had taken a picture of the runaway vehicle and the police managed to track them down. Now, she had a new bike, which made going between work and school - college, not high school - much easier, and left her enough time to stop in for coffee.

She also proudly informed him that the logo they worked on together was accepted without corrections - apparently a rare event. She asked for a long macchiato, no sugar, to celebrate.

He brewed it with Guatemalan beans, smoky, spicy, and floral. He thought the blend reflected her personality well.

It was a pleasant night.

§

 

“My mom always bought those pods for our machine at home,” she told him, looking at his hands. “I’ve never had drip coffee before.”

“So you never had coffee at all,” he declared matter of factly.

She had asked if it was ok for her to work on an assignment. The wifi was very good, she’d said, and she really enjoyed his coffee. He had shrugged and agreed. She really looked like she needed help, and he didn’t mind the company.

“Your way takes too much time,” she twisted her nose.

“Sit still just for one minute,” he insisted.

He set a ceramic cup and saucer on the table, with a glass dropper mounted on top. Then, he slowly, carefully poured boiling water over it in a circular motion. He closed his eyes to breathe in the familiar, earthen aroma filling the air.

“It’s less acidic this way. You can taste more complex flavors than with instant espresso,” he smiled thoughtfully. “Plus, you generate less waste. Those plastic pods are an environmental nightmare.”

“I suppose you’re right...”

He lifted the dripper and set it aside in a bowl, but it spilled onto the saucer. She reached for a napkin, but he wiped it with his finger instead, and winced. The liquid was still surprisingly hot.

He stuck the tip of his finger in his mouth, running his tongue over the stinging skin. She eyed him intensely, with an expression he couldn’t read.

“Sorry.” He removed his finger and looked away, figuring it was disgust. “Don’t worry, I washed my hands.”

She coughed, managing to say she was glad, before darting into the bathroom.

§

 

They established a routine.

She would step in on business days, and stay to work on assignments when she had time. It was too late to admit he didn’t originally work at night, but he found he didn’t really mind it. He would keep the door open and brew coffee for her and anyone else who wandered in.

It turned out to be an unexpectedly large number of people.

§

 

“But I told you, I don’t need new cup sleeve designs,” he frowned at the screen being shoved in his face.

It was an assignment night, and he’d been preparing a ristretto for her before the attack.

“And I said I wanted to repay you.” She almost pouted in frustration. “I don’t have much money, but I can work for free!”

“I still have to print the labels,” he shook his head. “I know you want to help, but in the end it’s still an unnecessary expense.”

“It’s an investment!” she exclaimed. “Your clientele would increase, and I know a place that has cardboard with seeds between the layers. It would be eco-friendly!

He shook his head again.

“I know you care about this stuff,” she leaned in, “remember the plastic pods?”

He stood firm, crossing his arms, stern face not diminished by the tea towel tucked into his elbow.

“I have plenty of customers already.”

She sat down with a huff, defeated.

“If I didn’t come here to work, you wouldn't have any customers at all,” she growled.

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. For someone so small, she was awfully headstrong. He needed to set some boundaries, before things went too far.

“Do you keep doing that because of the chalk?” she asked suddenly.

“Chalk?” He looked around, confused.

“Allow me.”

In a swift movement, she propped herself up onto the counter. He was about to protest the abuse of the oak surface, when she leaned forward and touched his hair.

She ran her fingers through the strands along his neck, sending a shiver down his spine when he felt her nails scrape against his skin.

“You are too tall,” she explained, ”the chalk from the menu always ends up in your hair. I thought that was why you kept touching it...”

She trailed off, staring at him with her mouth slightly parted. Their heights were almost even like this, and she was awfully close; enough for him to see the flecks of color in her eyes, and the tip of her tongue wetting her lips.

“Thank you,” he replied dumbly, his voice taking on a husky edge.

He didn’t dare to speak more or look too closely. He had a feeling of the sounds that would come from his throat.

A horn blasted and broke the magic in the room.

“Hey you,” her blonde companion called, “I’m beat. Let’s go.” 

She blinked and jumped down from the counter, rushing out at incredible speed.

He found himself staring blankly at the glass doors, running his fingers over the places she touched, where her warmth still lingered on his skin.

What was that?

§

 

She forgot her pink sharpie.

He kept rolling it between his fingers.

She didn’t appear for days, and he ended up writing on the to go cups with it. He said to himself it was because it reminded him of that day, and how many customers must have seen him with chalk dust in his hair.

His embarrassment was solely because of that. 

§

 

“She isn’t coming back,” he finally admitted.

“Who?” Kijima asked, taking a drink from his martini.

“Bike girl.” He swallowed a mouthful of whiskey, letting it burn his throat. “It’s been a month.”

Kijima stopped mid-sip and turned to sneer at him. 

“Who the hell is bike girl?”

“The one who ordered the trenta espresso with no sugar, who you wanted me to check on,” he sighed. “There was a bike accident in front of the cafe, and after that, she started coming at night to work on projects.”

“At night?” Kijima raised an eyebrow.

“To the coffee shop, not my apartment. But since, ahmn… a while ago... she vanished. And now I’ll wait until eight, sometimes nine o'clock, but she never shows. I wonder if something happened...”

Kijima’s other eyebrow shot up and joined the first.

“Well, that’s unexpected, but bike girl? How can you call her that?” Kijima frowned, swaying a little. “Between the two of us, I thought you were supposed to be the gentleman. What's her name? Is it a secret?”

He looked up, surprised. Everything had evolved so naturally, it hadn’t occurred to him to ask.

“I…”

Kijima smiled at him wickedly.

“Are you saying you work more than twelve hours a day just for the chance to see this girl, and you never even asked her name?”

Kijima reached forward and patted his arm.

“My God, I never thought this day would come.” He lifted his glass to toast, “Pal, you are sooooo screwed.” 

§

 

“Heeey playboy, open up! I need more coffee!”

The shouting woke him. His clock said it was four in the morning, two hours too early to open anything. He rolled over and closed his eyes.

“Handsome baristaaa, aren’t you open until ‘latte’?” she shouted again, and then laughed raucously at her own joke. 

He grunted, crawled out of bed, and trudged down the stairs. He opened the side door, ready to tell the drunk person off, when he saw the orange hair. It was her. Bike girl.

“Heeeeeey, was this door always here?” she wobbled to the side, almost falling face first onto the curb.

He rushed forward, catching her just in time.

“This door doesn’t go to the shop, it’s the door to my apartment,” he answered, stunned. “Are you alright? It’s probably not safe for you to be walking around alone this late. Have you been drinking?”

“Just coffee,” she smiled proudly. “Oh wow, were your always this muscular? So unfair, I bike two and a half hours a day, and you just stand around for hours... How in the world do they get like this?”

He narrowed his eyes.

“What did you really drink?” he asked again.

“Irish coffee,” she giggled, then frowned. “Maybe a little too much.” 

He sighed and looked around at the empty street. He should send her home, but he realized he knew next to nothing about her.

“Is there someone to take care of you? What about the blonde guy?” he asked. “Where do you live? Let me get my keys and I'll take you.”

“No!” she yelled, throwing her arms around him and squeezing tightly. “ I don't have anywhere to go right now. Just brew me some coffee... and tell me how I’ve been doing e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g wrong aaall my life.”

He grunted once more, feeling uncomfortable with the sudden closeness, as well as the heat of her body. He’d wanted to see her again, but this wasn’t what he had in mind. When the neighbors lights went on, he made a terrible decision.

He took her upstairs, half dragging, half carrying, her unresponsive body. She slung an arm around his neck, and he found it difficult to breathe. It was too hot. He didn’t own a couch since he never entertained guests, so he sat her on the bed and wondered what to do next.

“Coffee,” she mumbled. “Your coffee makes everything better.”

That gave him an idea. He went to the kitchen and returned a minute later with a cup. “Here.”

She looked at him skeptically.

“No,” she pouted. “I don't want water.”

“Drink it.”

“Fine,” she smiled devilishly, “if you give it to me mouth to mouth.”

“Alright.”

She looked up at him expectantly, her golden eyes wide and pupils blown. He took her delicate chin in his hand and poured a small sip down her throat.

She coughed, frowning. “You’re not fun at all, playboy.”

He sighed. Did she really think he was the kind of person who’d take advantage of someone when they were drunk? When it was finally empty, he set the cup on the floor.

“Why am I a playboy?” he sat beside her on the bed.

“You’re always flirting with the customers.”

“What, wh-”

“I’m still thirsty, I need more,” she whined, cutting him off.

She lunged forward, aiming for his lips, but he held her back. This was no good. He needed to keep her still, but neither locking her in the bathroom or tying her wrists with a belt seemed like particularly good ideas.

“I’m a customer, so serve me,” she struggled, managing to slip from his grip and lunging again. “I thought we were friends.”

His started to panic, and went with the first thing that came to mind. He wrapped his arms around her tight enough to stop her from moving, and hoped she couldn’t hear how loud his heart was beating.

“Friends?” Frustration edged into his voice. “I don’t even know your name.”

“So there’s actually something I know that you don’t.” She stopped struggling and hugged him back. “You came to my rescue the first time I saw you, on the day of the crash. So tall, so charming, so full of answers...” 

He frowned, letting his head rest on top of hers, and breathing in the floral scent of her shampoo. 

“That wasn’t the first time I saw you.” He inhaled deeply, feeling almost lightheaded. “You were the one who made an impression, asking for almost a liter of pure espresso... You never stopped surprising me.”

“Did I do that? I don’t remember, but it’s fitting,” she shrugged, looking up. “Once again, you know more than I do. And stop, you’re doing it again.”

“I’m doing what?” his fingers stroked her back absentmindedly, getting a little too comfortable with the feeling of her body against him, so warm and soft.

“You’re giving me those ‘emperor of the night’ eyes again,” she bit her lip, smirking at him. “Like you want to devour me whole.”

He froze, hands stilling. These were dangerous waters, and he needed a distraction.

“What is your name anyway?” He asked, gaze fixed on the wall behind her.

“It’s a secret,” she whispered.

That he could understand all too well. He stayed still, hoping she’d fall asleep in his arms.

“Oh I know,” she teased, pushing her fingers into his back, “we could play a game. Guess how many letters are in my name.”

“I don’t…”

She lunged one more, making him lose balance and fall on the bed. He didn’t let go of her, and from her position, all she could reach was his chest. Warm lips clumsily kissed his skin.

“Five?” he blurted out, trying to hide how his body replied with a mind of his own.

“Correct,” she kissed once more and he uncomfortably shifted his legs. “And yours?”

He briefly considered locking himself in the bathroom, but in the end, two could play this game. He leaned down and gently dragged his tongue along the shell of her ear.

“Three?” she asked, with a heavy voice.

“Very good,” he whispered, pleased when she hummed softly.

“I don't think I could handle any more letters,” she snuggled deeper into his arms.

“Mmmm,” he dragged his nose up the column of her neck, and she shivered. “What’s the first letter?”

She yawned and stroked her thumb across his skin, “K, and yours?”

“R,” he placed his head on top of hers, appreciating the scent.

They keep talking, making riddles that made less and less sense until the logic of the game failed him entirely and he slid into a snug slumber. He slept deeply that night.

 

§

 

He came back to his senses with the hard sun coming through the blinds. Birds were chirping loudly, and the sound of the traffic was the first signal that he was late. 

He tried to get up, but his arms were numb. He realized why when he didn’t manage to shift positions. She was still there, locked in place and wide awake.

He froze, feeling his extremities grow cold.

“Good morning,” she had lost the drunken playfulness.

“Morning,” he didn’t know what else to say.

With the speed of a butterfly, she placed a shadow of kiss on his lips and made his heart stop.

“I'm Kyoko,” she whispered.

All his worries melted away.

He reached forward and pressed her lips with his. He kissed her lightly and he tasted coffee and whiskey on her breath. She surprised them both by yanking him closer and the soft, heat feeling flew from his mouth directly to his abdomen. He groaned softly, low in his throat, and the need to touch every dip and curve of her body sprawled through his mind like a hot, brewing steam filling an empty room.

“I’m Ren,” he murmured into the curve of her neck.

He figured the lie didn’t matter so much, given how ensnared he found himself even not knowing her name until now. They would go through it when the time was right. He knew she would understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry, I realize just now I hijacked this prompt. It was "We buy the same coffee every day, but always forget to exchange our names." requested by the lovely Loyalty Counts! I’m always delighted by your comments on my stories. I hope you can forgive me on this little twist.
> 
> PS: My Brazilian soul demands me to advise: ‘americano’ is more of a bland, dirty water than, coffee. Forget that lie and drink concentrated, dripped coffee, people. That’s the real coffee! Honestamente vocês todos… tsk tsk tsk


	7. Halloween Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ren skips the autumn solstice duties because of her. Halloween Tale AU.

He decided to skip the autumn solstice because of the black cat, not because she asked.

Forget that she tried her best, mortals kept blaming the feline deity for a myriad of minor misfortunes, most likely brought by their own carelessness and not her ever-loving presence. The cold rage finally boiled out of his heart when she succumbed to despair after being blamed for yet another announced death. That night, he fled the festivities.

Kyoko had no fault, she needed to know that.

They waited for him, from sunset to sunrise, but the dead’s souls were not unleashed in the world. They wear scary masks and spooky costumes, but no demon possessed a body that night. They felt silliness in their hearts, as hollow and lacking as a cursed doll exercised by a priest, and yet, he didn't care.

He chose a fae avatar.

Knowing her tastes, he hid behind cheerful, green eyes and enchanted, golden braids. He chose iridescent wings, thinking it would make her smile. He found her in a riverbank, pouring hurt thought her eyes, completely miserable.

“What is your problem, child?”

“I am cursed.”

“Nonsense. Come, be mine and I will prove you wrong.“

“Oh enchanted, you would get nothing but sadness and before long, you too would grow tired of me… I can't. Not again.”

She curled herself into a ball with her tail, and he reached for her arm.

“Stroking your fur would make my mornings.”

“And the bad luck would ruin your days.”

“The honor of having your presence under the moonlight would make it all bearable.”

“Until you realize I'm an omen of misfortune.”

“I would live and thrive eternally, as long as you were with me.”

She sighed at the naivete.

“I would curse you to eternal death.”

At that moment, he let go of the magic and revealed his true self. A dark holiness, who exhaled horror and dread, who was dressed by mystery and gazed at her with underworld windows some would call eyes.

“You can not curse the accursed.”

She looked down, humbled by the power.

“I do not deserve to be loved.”

With all the care in creation, he took her chin in his hands and spoke the ugly truth.

“And I do not deserve to be happy.”

A smile blossomed in her feline traits, despite her everlasting tears.

“Seems like a good match.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt was: “autumn, skipping, mask, black cat, sunset, waiting, spooky. ”
> 
> Happy Halloween!


	8. Something dangerous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cain and Setsu had a part to play, but maybe she didn’t care about him anymore. Future cannon story. This is part of a series of shorts for my secret Santa. #MerrySkipmas Kikoune!

She was late.

Cain got out of the car feeling pinned down by the parking lot darkness. Half an hour was just about the maximum duration of self-loathing Kuon managed to endure alone. Cain reminded himself for the thousandth time that this was Setsu. At this point, delays were almost a character trait... but Kuon roared at his stupidity. Mogami Kyoko was never late. She probably wouldn’t make it.

He crushed his keys in his fist and headed to the entrance, already hearing the paparazzi’s cries. Kyoko was simply too busy for him these days, even sharing the same manager, it had been impossible to meet her since the Box R finale and Lotus in the Mud premiere. Thinking back, he hadn’t seen her since their lunch at the park. Maybe it was a consequence of role of acting as if she was love with another man; he heard she was quite convincing. Thinking back, he hadn’t seen her since their lunch at the park. Maybe it was a consequence of role of acting as if she was love with another man; he heard she was quite convincing. 

He shook his head.

It was just a role, a job, exactly like the Heel siblings. That must be it. Kyoko had played something similar with him; they had portrayed a forbidden love between siblings and, now, she was pretending to be in love with someone else. She probably wouldn’t come. She probably had distanced herself deliberately. She probably couldn’t remember how to play this.

“It’s an awards ceremony nii-san, you should dress accordingly.”

Cain halted.

The mere sight of her made Kuon’s head spin more than Ren would be willing to confess. Setsu was waiting for him against the glass door, outside lights creating a halo out of her pink strands. He noted that the outfit was correct. Jelly had chosen a black slip dress that was long enough to reach the floor and still managed to show more skin than ever. Still, looking right and playing right were very different things.

“Silly nii-san,” she flicked a tie in her hands,“ what would you do without me?”

Defying silence was his only answer.

Setsu came closer and, in his chest, he felt the sharp stabbing of her stiletto heels. She wrapped his neck in her petit arms and proceeded to do the necessary motions. Kuon stood still, trying to decide whether or not this was really Setsu standing before him, doing a terrible job at tying his tie. With those heels, there was no need for her to be on her tiptoes, no need to have her hands near his hair, no need for her nails to scrape his scalp like that. 

“Come, we’re late,” she complained like it was his fault.

He was pulled by the hand to the entrance, landing directly at a red carpet where a barrage of paparazzi proceeded to be thoroughly confused by their outfits. Cain tried to stand still for the pictures, but Kuon needed to know. Was this his Setsu, or a reflex of someone else? Not knowing was dangerous. He gave her a first and final chance.

“Did you miss me?”

She batted her heavy eyelashes, squinting because of the camera flashes. “I can’t hear you, these people are too loud.”

He bent down and brought his lips next to her ear to repeat himself, his voice rough from disuse. “Did you miss me, Setsu?”

Kuon saw how Kyoko broke character, shivering at his breath, pink flushing across her cheeks. The sight made the monster that lived inside him roar in delight; it was all the proof he needed. She recomposed herself and looked up, with Setsu’s typical lopsided smile.

“How could I, nii-san? We have been together in the UK every day since your movie was over.”

Kuon pulled her to himself by the waist, possessively. The flashing cameras flickered to life again. It would be a fine party if Cain managed to keep Kuon’s longing under control.

“Even when you're next to me, I'm always missing you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of four prompts, and since I was out of ideas, it’s based on Dangerous Animals, by Arctic Monkeys. I used bits and pieces of the lyrics. All the love for Aikori who organized this Secret Santa and was by beta s2
> 
> Well, I’m alive.
> 
> Excuse me while I hijack this notes to give some personal updates.  
> I just had the pleasure of having one of the most horrible breakups of my life, and since that, I simply forgot how to write. I’m trying to get back to my feet and some ideas are popping up recently, but I also upgrade from freelancer to fulltime at work, so I’m moving countries to the UK soon and that’s eating up my free time and mind.
> 
> Apologies for the sudden disappearance… life don’t you agree?


	9. Something funny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Latest Summary: Why is Tsuruga-san, Kyoko’s boyfriend, looking at her like that? Post Cannon story. This is part of a series of shorts for my secret Santa. #MerrySkipmas Kikoune!

He’d been looking at her sideways for a while now. Tsuruga Ren. The most desired bachelor in Japan, her boyfriend, was stolen from her arms and trapped into a web of alcoholic bets with Hidehito Kijima. She noted that eliminating the threat of public recognition had strange effects on men’s behaviors.

If she dared to choose a word, they were ‘wasted’.

She hid her giggles behind her warm cocktail drink, and leaned in the balcony, gazing at the city below. She had never seen him like that. It’s a petty thought, she knew but being able to know sides of him that others could never fathom made her oddly warm inside.

“Cold night, hmm?” a familiar deep voice asked. “Perfect for stargazing.”

“Oh hi,” her sip went flying back to its cup, completely unladylike.

They were together for a month now, but her mind still couldn’t process that Tsuruga-ren was her boyfriend, and his sudden proximity startled her so much, that her brain automatically switched to what it did best. Rambling.

“Yes it is cold, but autumn is almost over,” she pointed. “It will be a while before we can enjoy outside.”

“Does work keep you indoors too much?”

“Well…”

He leaned in the balcony with her, casually resting his arm and gazing up in that way that made her stop breathing. 

“Excuse me, but this makes me want to guess your occupation,” he continued. “Perhaps, you’re a runaway model?”

Heat spread on her cheeks as fast as the confusion spread on her mind. Runaway model? Her? What was he up to? Maybe faking not knowing each other a couple’s thing? She never dated, she had no previous experience to compare with, nor time to call Moko-san and ask... Kyoko bit her lip for concentration. Tsuruga-san was always a professional and a gentleman. Maybe it was an impromptu acting test. Like Katsuki.

“Oh, sure. I mean yes, I get to travel a lot,” she cleaned her throat and grabbed some shreds of a sophisticated persona. “It is tiresome, but personalized wardrobes make up for most of my trouble.”

He smiled, the sincere and heart-melting smile, and she almost slipped out of character.

“So I guess you don’t come here often,” he offered a hand. “I’m Kuon.”

“Yue,” she shook on it. How bland. She was always terrible at making up names on the spot.

As swiftly as flowing water, Tsuruga-san pulled. He gently trapped her clumsy falling form into his strong, warm arms. Kyoko’s mind went blank as the Emperor of the Night caressed her lower back, softly whispering in her flaming ears.

“Care to discuss more wardrobe details in my hotel room, Yue?”

She was paralyzed. He begged her with the most tender eyes she had ever seen. Her slow brain could only think that humans should be allowed to have eyes like that. "F-fashion details? Are you playing a Stylist, then?"

“Playing?” his perfect eyebrows furrowed. “I honestly want to invite you in and d...”

“Stop scaring your girlfriend, asshole.”

A rough pull cut him short. Kijima had come in between them, pushing a confused Tsuruga-san away, and laughing through the whole process.

“Girlfriend? Mine? How?” Tsuruga-san looked confused. “She is so enchanting and beautiful…”

“Exactly,” Kijima punched Tsuruga-san’s arm, not so playfully, “and if you still want her to like you in the morning, come to have some water.”

“He doesn’t know me?” Kyoko almost whined.

“Sorry,” Kijima apologized. “I swear I just stopped looking for a second and there he goes, causing havoc. Who knew he couldn’t hold his liquor?

“W-who indeed?” Kyoko collected herself and waved goodbye.

She supposed, now she knew.

She collapsed, face hidden in trembling hands once they were back into the bar. Tsuruga-san thought she was pretty, even as a stranger, he still thought she was pretty. Kyoko prayed that the cold, cold wind could extinguish the self-combustion process that her body was deploying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second of four prompts. Hopefully, it was funny. More tomorrow.


	10. Something messy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Latest Summary: After a series of messy events, they were roommates. Or was it the other way around? College AU. This is part of a series of shorts for my secret Santa. #MerrySkipmas Kikoune!

Kyoko looked at Kuon’s open arms and growled. He knew what was the problem, but he decided to ask anyway. Hell if he was going to make this any easier for her.

“What?” Kuon asked, languidly. “You know it’s the best option.”

And just like that, she was off.

“When this winter camp came up, I thought ‘what a great opportunity to improve my GPA and get to know the best students from the US!’...”

“I am a great student,” he interefered.

“... but then,” she continued, “I got paired up with the biggest Harvard playboy who also happens to be famous for his absent attendance record, and for bringing anything with two legs and a skirt home.”

“You overestimate my fame,” he sat up.

“You are famous for having a late night N-NOISY R-ROOM,” she interjected, chattering her teeth. “ And I-I was unfortunate enough to have my name mistaken for a mans and to be p-paired up as Y-YOUR roommate.”

“Maybe it was your haircut,” he teased. “Now, stop being obnoxious and join me in bed, you are shivering.”

“I’m Japanese,” she crossed her arms. “I’m sleeping on the floor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scolded. “Without the heater, you are going to freeze to death.”

He let her indignant silence stretch, savoring each second, looking at the gears roll in her head.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” She finally spoke. “It has to be some sort of American prank.”

“Me what?” He turned his head, thinking. “It was me that broke your decrepit bed into timbers, or me who knocked out the power? Oh, I know. It was me who invoked this blizzard with my fairy powers.”

“YOU PLOTTED EVERYTHING FROM THE START!” She yelled.

“Why?” He calmly asked.

“J-just to annoy m-me!” She shuddered.

“Now, you are contradicting yourself Kyoko,” he made his point with a smile. “According to your previous monologue, I was supposed to be stupid.”

“ARGH!”

She kicked her thin blanket away in furry. Kuon made a point of displaying a smug smile while she marched with heavy steps to his bed, gazed at him as she would at a piece of litter, and finally accept reality by sitting on his bed. Kuon expected her to lay down as far as possible. 

He didn’t expect her to hug him tightly.

“Why are you so warm,” the complaint came muffled. She had her head in his shirt.

“I don’t know.” he tried to sound nonchalant and prayed she couldn't feel how busy his heart was doing a little victory dance. “Maybe I live here and I’m used to this weather.”

“I hear idiots don’t get cold,” she mumbled and tightened the embrace.

“Today you proved this saying wrong.”

“Watch it.”

Kuon dared to pat her head. He liked it when she was triggered. He just loved it when she was livid with him.

Just with him, and no one else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know if you noticed, but I do love that part of Skip Beat where Ren and Kyoko just *hate* each other. Best rivalmance material.  
> This is the third of four prompts. Last one tomorrow.


	11. Something with lots of fluff and Christmas magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Latest Summary: Maria casts a spell. Angsty magical cannon fluff. This is part of a series of shorts for my secret Santa. #MerrySkipmas Kikoune!

“Another marvelous stone,” Tsuruga Ren remarked. “It’s my first, but you should start a collection.”

The gem was so astonishingly beautiful that Mogami Kyoko couldn’t find words. Maria understood her tastes, and reactions, very well, so she proceeded to excitedly point out the all the details behind the successful gift choice.

“I knew you would love a handmade spell, nee-san, but I could not decide what you and Ren would wish for Christmas gifts, so I solved it by getting you two wishing stones! Place It under your pillow, concentrate in a true desire and it. will. be. granted.”

“You shouldn’t have…” Kyoko finally said, entranced by how the light sparkled furious storms of red, green and blue freckles in the otherwise foggy, gray stone. “Maria-san, how much did it cost?”

§

Kyoko already thought it would not work, but it just made her dream.

She hated it.

Even in her dreams, he was there. She had asked for Maria’s happiness before sleep, but all she could see in with her foggy, dream’s eyes was Tsuruga-san’s captivating presence in regal clothing, dismounting a white stallion and kneeling in front of her. Of course, her heart wished he was the perfect prince and she the chosen peasant. She detested not being able to control the spell, but after so much time, her heart was aching to let the truth out.

“I like you,” she confessed. “Despite my principles and how your heart beats, I can’t stop loving you.”

§

Ren woke up the next morning with a lingering feeling. The dream had been so realistic that his arms hurt from hugging her so tightly. He had wished for her, simply and honestly. He had wished to be in her presence, without lies and guilt. The odd thing, besides his prince costume, was that he hadn’t dared to wish her to like him back. Even in his dreams, he wasn’t worthy of this blessing.

Ren closed his eyes, ignored his alarm, and tried to engrave in memory the already fading sensations of her lips on him, and him alone.

§

They were greedy.

They kept the stone under their pillows, and against all common sense, wished to be alone together, wished for a safe space, wished that unrequited love wasn’t anything but a misunderstanding and wished to remember everything in the morning.

They wished for more wishes, and oddly enough, the stone granted it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucid dreams together, why not? I just want this two to be isolated together for a long, long time until they were honest and solved all their issues… and pardon for the brevity, if I added one more word to the story, it would simply scream to be expanded.
> 
> And with this last prompt, my quadrilogy of hugs is over. Happy holidays everyone!


	12. The Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Latest Summary: In which Kyoko gets some time to think in the train, or tries to, if Koga would only let her. Reaction to chapter 268. If you're a die-hard Ren fan, skip this.

"Oh hey," a body suddenly collapsed at her side, and Kyoko jumped. "I’m with the fangirl."

"Excuse me?" she scouted around.

She was on the train. The train to the Royal Palace. Somehow, she’d gotten from her shower to this seat on autopilot. 

"Hmm, isn’t ‘fangirl’ a good enough of a description?" Koga scratched the stubble on his chin. "Maybe you're higher in the ranks. Fanclub President? Number one Tsuruga fan? Tsurugarette?"

The casual name drop hurt.

"Senpai, you can call me Kyoko."

He shook his head thoughtfully and fluffed a cat-shaped neck pillow.

"Too hard to remember." He faced her. "Names are easy to forget, but fun facts stick, you know? Like, I’m Koga, but I’m also the best guy at backflips you ever saw."

She closed her eyes, counted to ten, and smiled brightly.

"I’m sorry Koga-senpai. I realize the staff got seated us together, but I'm afraid I’m feeling under the weather this morning." She coughed twice for emphasis. "Do you think perhaps they could find you another seat?"

"Nah."

"Aren't you afraid of getting sick?"

"I’ve got a great immune system, and it’s probably nothing major. You look fine.” He sounded carefully disinterested.

Koga positioning his pillow with the feline face towards her, found a comfortable spot and closed his eyes. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

"I would rather not make you sick too," she coughed once more.

"If you're sooooo worried, kohai,” he replied with closed eyes, “then you should move."

Kyoko sighed and stood up, looking around the car.

It was the first train to Chyoda. Apart from her and Koga, there were hardly any passengers. No one else from the crew was there since they had to travel the day before to set up the equipment. She sat back down and fiddled with the hem of her coat. 

After last night she really wanted peace and quiet, but... but... The seats were numbered. What if someone else got in from a stop, and she was in their place? What if one of the conductors performed a check? If she caused trouble, would that affect the filming?

“Fine then,” she mumbled.

He replied with a snort.

After that, they stayed silent.

It was curious. The bullet train was the perfect amount of silence to drive an idle mind insane. Kyoko decided to count the seconds between each time the carriage inclined. Smoothly to the left, thirty-four and to the right, one hundred sixty-two and back to the left. Never losing speed. Never changing pace. Why did Tsuruga-san have to appear on set at that time? In front of the whole crew, making a scene?

"You should spend some time in a hospital," Koga suggested, "studying. That cough was super fake."

"Sorry,” she jumped again, startled.

He didn't go further. Surely, Koga had seen it too. He was on set at the time. Kyoko went back to the hem. Smoothing it. Repeatedly.

"Aren't you going to ask... why I lied?" she breathed.

"I couldn't care less, Kouhai."

"Oh."

"Unless it's related to Tsuruga." Koga opened an eager eye. "He was abnormally asshole this past week but anyone would hardly… Unless you were crying because of him too last time in the locker! This is not a one-time thing, but an ongoing squabble?”

“What? How did you… Why are you so obsessed with him?”

“Maybe Tsuruga’s rank could fall a little.” His eyes began to sparkle. “If only the paparazzi knew about you…”

Paparazzi. Her whole body recoiled at the word.

"Please senpai, it’s inconsiderate to create assumptions about things you don’t know."

He eyed her thoughtfully.

"Forget it, you're too far down in the Tsugarette’s ranks for him to notice you twice.” He closed his eyes again. “It was just my wishful thinking.”

She gapped.

She couldn’t believe Japan’s no. 2 actor was so rude!

Kyoko gave up on staring at the window. She decided to hunt for her headphones, but no matter how deeply she fished, she found no cables in her bag. It was so unlike her to forget something so crucial. When did she pack anyway? Was it before Shotaro’s call or after Tsuruga-san’s text? And how...

How?

How did Shotaro’s call manage to be more pleasant than any other recent interactions with Tsuruga? When did the world go bananas? And why, why did Tsuruga-san had to always jump to the worst conclusions and lash out on her like that?

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it,” Koga interrupted.

Kyoko slapped her hand over her traitorous mouth.

“I-I was just, just thinking out loud.”

“Mmm.”

“Tsuruga-san, he, doesn’t do it on purpose. It’s... just that sometimes, his anger can't be contained, and it’s hard when he thinks it's my fault.” 

“I see.”

“He worries for me because, things like that, rumors like that… a newcomer and a famous guy kissing in public, could ruin the newcomer’s career. And taint LME’s name."

Koga nodded in a perfect image of a polite skeptical and her lips wouldn’t stop moving. They were as restless as ever whenever a situation of defending Tsuruga-san's reputation appeared.

“I just wish he stopped bringing up Shotaro every time something goes wrong. It wasn't me who kissed him from the start! At least I think so, I don't even remember that day because, because… It's hard for me, and Tsuruga-san should know. He was there. But maybe it's my fault. Maybe I wasn't clear enough with him. I had more important things in my mind that day but I absolutely won't forget my past, fall in love and give up on my dreams because of that asshole acted nice for once. I am myself. I am driven by myself, and Tsuruga-san is just being slow into seeing that, and, and all his lectures and outbursts tire me. It's awful. I wish he saw how miserable this makes me.”

“What a manipulative asshole.”

She blinked.

“Excuse me?”

Koga tapped his lips.

"Manipulation... Maybe that's how Tsuruga gets all the best parts. And the best girls."

"Manipulation? No, he’s just a concerned friend!"

"See?” He looked at her. “From what I understand you’re swamped with personal problems, maybe a messy kissing situation with sprinkles of something else, and Tsuruga managed to manipulate you to focus on how bad you're making him feel, a classic.”

"No! What? You, you distorted everything!” Kyoko hid her face in her jacket. “Argh, why doesn’t anybody ever listen to me?”

“Oh, Tsuruga is listening all right,” Koga rose his index. “You are the deaf one. A deaf-fangirl blinded to her beloved’s tactics because you love him. Tsuruga got you right where he wants.”

“You are SO rude and FULL of yourself,” Kyoko exploded, smashing her hand in the window. “First of, you‘re not the best at backflips just because Konomari-san is worse at it. Second, I'm not in love Tsuruga-san just because I care about his opinion. And lastly, Tsuruga-san is not a manipulative person just because I am hurt by him caring.”

Koga stared her in the eye.

“So why, instead of enjoying this beautiful two-hour train ride for the magical imperial palace, you are busy crying again?”

She rubbed her wet cheeks.

“When did it...”

“Look,” he interrupted. “I’m going to spell this because you're slow and I want a peaceful train ride. If someone hurt you, let them know. Talk to Tsuruga and explain your feelings, and if he doesn’t listen, just cut him out of your life.”

“I...”

“At this point, I don't even know if you are an incredible actress or if your life is just miserable by default,” his eyes hardened. “Kyoko, If someone is making you cry repeatedly at work, there’s something wrong. He’s bad for you.”

Kyoko didn’t trust her voice at that moment.

“But, it’s your call after all. Someone who is just bad at backflips can’t know much about life, right?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t bother.”

Kyoko sniffed.

“You’re not bad at backflips,” she rubbed her eyes. “You’re just worse than me.”

His mouth dropped.

“What a rude. Rude. Kouhai.” he hit her repeatedly with the cat head. “You should learn some damn manners.”

“I can teach you how to get better,” she shielded her face. “But you still wouldn’t be the best. And I... I’ll think about what you said.”

Kouga got up and fondled with his bag.

“As I said, I don’t care at all about a forgetful fangirl whereabouts,” he threw headphones at her lap. “Now, please take this and leave me alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, canon… I hate Ren right now and my Kyoko x Koga ship is sailing.
> 
> The theme os this prompt was how traveling gives me so much time and my mind wonders so much that I just get out of the vehicle with actions items to solve my whole life.
> 
> (Apologies, this was less of a story and more of me making characters say what I want.)


End file.
